


find a little remedy

by ace_verity



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020), DC Extended Universe
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, Recovery, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:14:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23674450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ace_verity/pseuds/ace_verity
Summary: Helena gets her wisdom teeth out, and Dinah takes care of her.
Relationships: Helena Bertinelli/Dinah Lance
Comments: 45
Kudos: 263





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I can't stop writing hurt/comfort fic for these two. Hope you enjoy!

Helena arrives at their weekly meeting twenty minutes late and in a foul mood. 

Only one of these things is unusual for her.

“Well, well, look who decided to finally show up,” Renee comments, eliciting a glare from Helena. “What held you up?”

“It’s not my fault,” Helena snaps, then deflates a bit and mutters something incomprehensible. 

“What’s that?” Dinah asks innocently, because yes, she’ll admit it, she gets a kick out of poking Helena a bit in times like these. So sue her. 

“I was at the dentist.”

Renee laughs. “No wonder you look so pissed. Well? How’d it go?”

Helena shrugs, shifting under the scrutiny. “Fine, I guess. They’re taking my wisdom teeth out next week.”

“Oh, shit.” Dinah winces in sympathy. “No wonder you’re pissy.”

“I’m not —” Helena seems to realize that there’s no point denying it. “Yeah. Well, now you know.”

“Hang on.” Dinah had her wisdom teeth pulled years ago, but she still remembers how completely shitty it had been. “Won’t you need someone to drive you?”

Helena shrugs. “I don’t need to get the anesthesia. I can handle it.”

Renee scoffs. “Pretty sure you’re wrong there.”

“I _can.”_

“Well, you shouldn’t have to.” Dinah pins Helena with a firm look. “I can drive you there and back, and you can crash at my place that night. No arguing.”

Helena opens her mouth as if to protest, but instead nods, clears her throat, and says, looking about a foot left of Dinah’s shoulder, “Uh, thanks. That’s nice of you.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what friends are for.” 

Renee snorts with laughter, managing to turn it into a strangled cough to avoid Helena’s suspicion, and raises an eyebrow at Dinah. _Really?_ she mouths, eyes sparkling with mirth.

Okay, so maybe inviting Helena to spend the night was a stretch. Dinah rolls her eyes at Renee and tries to focus on the meeting at hand, but she can’t help feeling a bit proud of herself. The thing is, Dinah’s been dropping hints for months now, doing everything from complimenting Helena's outfits to asking Helena to teach her how to shoot a crossbow to outright flirtation. 

None of it has worked, and Dinah would have given it up as a lost cause if she hadn't caught Helena's gaze lingering on her, only for Helena to blush and look away when Dinah notices, on more than one occasion. Besides, Dinah's mother had always told her that helping someone who was sick was the best way to show that you cared, and Dinah had never known her mother to give bad advice. 

Hence, her new plan. 

After all, how hard can it be?

\---

Dinah picks Helena up at her apartment the following Wednesday, early in the morning.

"Thanks again for doing this," Helena tells her as soon as she slides into the passenger seat.

"Yeah, of course." Dinah glances at Helena, noting the way her hands are knotted in her lap. "You nervous?"

"Of course not." Helena laughs uncertainly. "It's just an extraction."

Dinah isn't fooled. "Well, it's okay if you are, you know. I've never been a fan of the dentist either."

"It's just — I've never been under anesthesia before." Helena frowns. "The thought of it… it's strange, that's all."

"Yeah, I understand." Dinah does — she knows that Helena's words probably only scratched the surface, and she's willing to bet that Helena's main concern isn't with the procedure itself but rather the idea of being defenseless, unaware of her surroundings. For a master assassin, it can't be an easy pill to swallow. 

The oral surgeon isn't far from Helena's apartment, and Dinah is able to park right in a side alley. It's a nice office, with a little waiting room and a hallway leading back to what Dinah assumes is the procedure room. 

Dinah takes a seat, sifting idly through a stack of outdated magazines, while Helena checks in with the receptionist. She looks up when Helena sits down next to her, clipboard in hand. 

"Doing okay?"

"Fine," Helena bites out tensely, then takes a deep breath and says, "Sorry. I didn't mean —" 

"I know." Dinah nudges Helena's shoulder gently. She's gotten accustomed to Helena's temper flares, recognizing that they're usually an automatic response to stress rather than a result of actual anger. She knows that Helena too has been making a conscious effort to check her temper, which Dinah thinks is a positive step if there ever was one. 

Dinah glances at the form Helena's filling out. Her pen is currently hovering over the question, _Who is accompanying you to this procedure?_ The options are _parent/guardian_ , _spouse/partner_ , and _other (please clarify)._

"I’m surprised they don't have _vigilante teammate_ as an option," Dinah says under her breath, making Helena's mouth twitch upward in a smile. 

"Helena?" A woman in scrubs is standing in the doorway, looking between them with an expectant smile. “We’re ready for you.”

“Oh. Right.” Helena stands, then turns back to Dinah. “I guess —”

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” Dinah cuts in. “Not going anywhere.”

Helena nods a bit jerkily and then follows the nurse down the hall and out of sight. Dinah glances at the clock, which reads 9:27. Early still, and she can’t remember how long the surgery will take — not more than an hour, she guesses, so she chooses a magazine at random and eyes the Keurig in the corner, trying to decide whether to make herself a coffee.

The receptionist clears her throat suddenly. “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you two are a lovely couple. She’s lucky to have such a caring partner.”

 _Oh._ Dinah swallows down a lump in her throat — she’s _not_ getting emotional over this, she _refuses_ — and smiles politely. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.”

The receptionist smiles back and returns to her work, and Dinah stares unseeingly at the open magazine on her lap. She wonders suddenly what Helena had written in response to that question on the form, then mentally scolds herself for acting like a schoolgirl with a crush. Dinah tamps down the itch for a cigarette and stands abruptly instead. At least making a cup of coffee will give her something to do with her hands. 

\---

As she waits, Dinah tries to recall her own experience getting her wisdom teeth removed. She hadn’t reacted much to the anesthesia; it had only made her groggy, and the week following the surgery is a bleary memory of discomfort and hours spent watching cheesy daytime television on the couch. So she’s not sure what to expect from Helena when the surgeon calls her back to the recovery room.

“She’s pretty out of it,” he tells Dinah in a low voice in the hall. “There was some impaction, but otherwise everything went quite smoothly. She should be ready to go in ten minutes or so, and you can go sit with her. The nurse will be in to tell you about the healing process and answer any questions.”

Dinah thanks him and steps into the recovery room. Helena’s sitting in a recliner, a fuzzy pink blanket tucked over her, and when her eyes land on Dinah, her whole face lights up.

“Hey there,” Dinah says, trying not to laugh at the sight — Helena Bertinelli, Mafia princess and master assassin, loopy from the anesthetic with her cheeks puffed out ridiculously from the gauze. Dinah pulls a chair over next to Helena and sits down as Helena says something that would have been incomprehensible even if she weren’t speaking in Italian.

“I don’t speak Italian, babe,” Dinah tells her, the endearment slipping out unconsciously. She winces, but it’s not like Helena notices anyway.

Helena frowns, her forehead screwing up adorably, and repeats what she’d said — this time in a language Dinah doesn’t even recognize — then looks at Dinah expectantly.

Dinah shakes her head, and Helena pouts and says carefully, “Hello. Please can I have the teeth?”

Dinah bites her lip, determined not to laugh. “You want to keep the teeth they just pulled out?”

“Yes,” Helena tells her seriously.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

This seems to satisfy Helena, who sighs contentedly and just looks at Dinah, her dark eyes soft and dazed. 

“You’re nice,” Helena informs her. “Yes, the nicest. And so so pretty. Pretty hair, pretty — yeah. Like you, hm. Very much.”

“I like you too, H.” 

Helena grins dopily, and Dinah smiles back. Before she can say anything else, though, the nurse knocks on the door and steps in. “How are we feeling, Miss Helena?”

“Floating,” Helena tells her seriously.

“Good, good.” The nurse smiles at Dinah, then asks Helena, “Any pain?”

“Nope, uh-uh.”

“Perfect.” The nurse — Joan, Dinah reads from her nametag, turns to Dinah. “You’ll be taking care of Miss Helena, then?”

At Dinah’s confirmation that she will be, the nurse hands her a packet of papers, a prescription bag, and a reusable ice pack, rattling off a long list of instructions: no straws, no smoking, lots of rest and fluids, et cetera. 

“Any questions?” 

Helena, who had been listening raptly but probably without much comprehension, pokes Dinah’s shoulder. “Teeth.”

“Oh, right.” Dinah turns to the nurse. “She’d like to have the teeth, if possible. Sorry, that’s kind of weird.”

Joan shakes her head, clearly unsurprised. “It’s a pretty common request. Unfortunately, the surgeon had to break up the teeth in order to remove them, so we didn’t save them.”

Helena looks crestfallen. “No teeth?”

“No teeth.”

“Fuck,” Helena says quietly.

Dinah doesn’t know whether to laugh or apologize to Joan, but luckily she just chuckles and raises her eyebrows at Dinah. “Good luck. Call us if you need anything. Questions, concerns, we’re here. Want to pull your car around and we’ll meet you out front?”

“Sure.” Dinah stands up. “Be right back, H.”

“Mmkay. Bye, Di.” Helena grins, pleased by her joke, and Dinah shakes her head and huffs a laugh. 

When she puts the car in park out front, Helena’s waiting by the door with the nurse. She waves at Dinah, as if she hadn’t just seen her two minutes before, and solemnly thanks the nurse as Dinah takes her by the arm and gets her settled in the passenger seat. Helena seems intrigued by the sight of her own face in the side mirror, so Dinah reaches across and fastens the seatbelt for her.

“Thank you,” Helena says seriously. “Dinah.”

“Need anything before we get going?”

“Hm.” Helena thinks deeply for a moment. “Water, please.”

Dinah locates the water bottle she’d grabbed that morning for this exact purpose and twists the cap off. “Careful, you’re probably pretty numb.”

“Yes, I’m fine.” Helena takes a sip of water and dribbles most of it on her lap. She stares at the stains, affronted, and then when Dinah laughs, she turns to her with a deeply wounded expression. 

“Sorry,” Dinah tells her. “Try again.”

The next attempt is a success, and after a third sip Dinah takes the water away and caps it. “More later, alright? Don’t need you puking in my car.”

“I won’t,” Helena says sulkily, eyeing the water bottle, but Dinah tucks it out of reach and pulls away from the curb. 

“Dinah.” Helena draws it out into at least four syllables. “Want a milkshake.”

“You do? You don’t even like sweets that much, H.” It’s true; Helena is a total snob when it comes to junk food, claiming that American desserts are too processed and sugary to be enjoyable.

“That — Dinah, that is _in-_ correct. I want a milkshake now, please. Thanks.”

“Alright.” Dinah can’t see why not; the nurse hadn’t said anything about not letting Helena eat, except that she can’t use a straw. There’s an ice cream shop on the next block, so Dinah finds a parking spot and looks at Helena. “What flavor?”

Helena looks at Dinah, clearly affronted. “Well, I don’t know.”

“Vanilla? Chocolate?”

Helena wrinkles her nose. “Boring. Those are so boring, Dinah. Bo-ring.”

“Strawberry?”

“I don’t want the _seeds_.”

“There aren’t any seeds in a strawberry milkshake.”

Helena looks at her dubiously, and Dinah sighs.

“How about mint chip?”

The suggestion is met with pure horror. “No, Dinah. Mint isn’t milkshake. Mint is _toothpaste._ ”

Dinah can’t help herself; she bursts out laughing. “Oh my God. You’re insane.”

“Am not!” Helena glares at her. “Dinah, that — that’s just not nice.”

Dinah wishes more than anything that she had thought to record this conversation. Then again, she’s pretty sure Helena would actually kill her if she did.

“You’re right. Sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Now what kind of milkshake do you want?”

Helena giggles — honest-to-God giggles, which is the strangest thing Dinah’s ever witnessed (but also the cutest). “Dinah! I don’t even _like_ the milkshakes!”

And Dinah can’t bring herself to be annoyed, not in the slightest. “Alright, let’s get you home, then.”

Helena seems to greatly enjoy the ride, closing her eyes and leaning into the wind like a dog. They make it up to Dinah’s apartment without much incident, and Dinah guides Helena to the couch and turns on the TV for her.

“Stay here, alright? I’ll warm up some soup for you so you can take your medicine.”

“Okay.” Helena’s attention seems to be captured by the screen, so Dinah goes to the kitchen, keeping an eye on Helena as she opens a can of Campbell’s and dumps it into a bowl. 

When it’s ready, she divides the soup into two portions and carries the bowls and spoons over to the couch. “Go slow, alright?”

Helena hums appreciatively when she swallows her first spoonful.

“Good soup?”

“Good soup,” Helena agrees, carefully maneuvering a noodle into her mouth. She catches Dinah looking at her and grins, the noodle still caught between her teeth, and Dinah shakes her head.

“You’re too much. Hey, _Mulan’_ s playing, want to watch?”

“Okay.” Helena investigates a piece of chicken on her spoon before sticking it in her mouth.

By the time the credits roll, Helena’s half-asleep, leaned against Dinah’s shoulder in a way that makes Dinah’s heart go warm and fluttery. She wouldn’t mind staying like this, but Helena hasn’t taken her medicine yet, so Dinah nudges her gently. “Hey. You gotta wake up, just for a minute, alright?”

Helena grumbles a little bit, blinking sleepily up at Dinah and immediately wincing. 

“Hurts, huh?” Dinah asks sympathetically.

“Yeah.” Helena works her jaw a bit and makes a face. “Ugh. I can taste the blood.”

“Should probably change the gauze, too.” Dinah looks her over; she still looks groggy, but the glazed-over look is gone — clearly, the anesthesia has worn off. “Although you probably don’t need it at all; I’m sure the bleeding’s stopped by now. Here.” She holds out two pills and a glass of water, and at Helena’s frown, she clarifies, “Ibuprofen and Percocet — low dose, don’t worry. The nurse said you could get by with just ibuprofen if you don’t like the other. You have to take an antibiotic, too, but not until tonight.”

Helena hesitates momentarily, but takes both pills, swallows them in one go, and makes as if to stand.

“Whoa, hey.” Dinah reaches forward, helping her up. “Careful, alright? What do you need?”

“Bathroom. I’m fine.”

“If you’re sure.” Dinah watches her cross the room; she moves slowly, but without any signs of unsteadiness, so Dinah busies herself with cleaning up their dishes. Her phone buzzes with a message from Renee: _how’s the patient?_

 _alright_ , Dinah texts back. _bit of pain but hanging in_

The reply comes a moment later: _well she’s in good hands ;)_

Dinah scoffs. Since when did Renee start using smileys in her texts? Cass is probably to blame for that development. 

The phone buzzes again: _call if you need anything. cass and harley might visit tomorrow, so be prepared._

 _thanks for the warning,_ Dinah replies, pocketing her phone when the bathroom door creaks open and Helena shuffles out. 

“Let me get you an ice pack, keep the swelling down.”

Helena doesn’t say anything; when Dinah looks over, Helena’s making a face like she’s trying to prod at the stitches with her tongue.

“Hey, stop that.”

Helena startles and looks up guiltily. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Uh-huh, sure. I’m just saying, if you fuck up your stitches, you’d have to go back and get them fixed. That’s not something I can fix myself, you hear?”

“I get it,” Helena says tensely, then winces. She sighs, adding, “Sorry.”

“No worries.” Dinah hands over the ice pack, and Helena takes it with a nod of gratitude, sinking back onto the couch. Dinah sits next to her, leaning back and propping her feet up on the coffee table. “I’ve never been a great patient. I probably drove my mom nuts when I got my wisdom teeth out.”

Helena tilts her head. “Really?”

“Sure.” Dinah shrugs. “I was bored out of my mind and sore as hell. She never complained, though.” It’s coming back to her, bits and pieces of memory: her mother was always endlessly patient, sitting through hours of trashy TV to keep Dinah company, bringing fresh ice packs and making Dinah’s favorite foods. Remembering it is bittersweet, and Dinah clears her throat and smiles, only a little forced. Helena’s studying her, her dark eyes thoughtful and sympathetic.

“She sounds lovely,” Helena says softly. 

“She was.” Not for the first time, Dinah wishes that her mother was still alive, even just for a day — long enough for Dinah to show her the life that she’s made for herself in her mother’s footsteps, to see what Dinah hopes would be pride on her mother’s face. She realizes suddenly that if her mother were still alive, she probably wouldn’t have met Helena, and Dinah doesn’t know how that makes her feel. 

From the look of knowing sympathy on Helena’s face, Dinah guesses that Helena knows what she’s thinking — Helena’s probably gone down that line of thought before too, Dinah thinks. In the end, though, it’s fruitless — _if wishes were horses,_ Dinah’s mother used to say. 

“So Cass and Harley might drop by tomorrow.” It’s not a very subtle change of subject, but Helena only raises her eyebrows.

“Yeah? That will be… interesting.”

“Think they’re hoping to see you loopy, but you’re already back to normal,” Dinah tells her.

Helena reddens a bit, looking apprehensive. “Was I, um… Did I say anything dumb?”

“No, no,” Dinah reassures her, unable to keep from smiling now. “You were cute.”

The color on Helena’s cheeks deepens further. “Um.”

Dinah figures she should elaborate. “You wanted to keep the teeth they took out, for starters. And you tried talking to me in Italian, and you said that I was ‘the nicest.’” She doesn’t mention the part where Helena had called her pretty, because she’s pretty sure Helena would die of embarrassment right there on the couch. “You asked me to get you a milkshake, but then you just complained about all the flavors and said you didn’t even like milkshakes.”

“Oh my God.” Helena looks mortified. “I’m sorry.”

“You kidding? It was hilarious. Like I said, cute.” Dinah elbows her lightly. “Should have gotten a video of it, Renee would have lost her shit.”

At the look of horror on Helena’s face, Dinah quickly reassures her, “I didn’t, though, don’t freak out.”

“Good,” Helena says fervently, switching the ice pack to the other side of her jaw. She hesitates, then asks, “And I didn’t say anything else, um, weird, right?”

“Nah, aside from that, you were pretty quiet.” Dinah glances over at her. “Why? Keeping secrets?” she asks teasingly.

“No! Of course not.”

But Helena won’t quite meet her eye, and Dinah smiles a bit, just to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second part will be up in a few days! Thanks for reading — I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up for mentions of nightmares in this chapter

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” Helena says firmly, after she’s dozed off for the second time since dinner, leading Dinah to suggest that maybe she should go to bed early tonight.

Dinah raises her eyebrows. “Not happening. Bed.”

“I’m not making you sleep on the couch.” Helena has her stubborn-assassin face on, the effect of which is significantly diminished by the puffiness of her cheeks. “It’s your apartment.”

“First of all, you’re not _making_ me do anything. I’m perfectly fine with sleeping on the couch. Plus,” Dinah adds, “you’re the one who just had surgery —”

“ — it was a _minor procedure_ —”

“ — so you need good rest, alright?”

Helena frowns. “Fine.” 

Dinah exhales, thinking that she’s actually won this round without too much trouble, when Helena says, “I don’t mind sharing the bed, if…” She clears her throat. “If you’re okay with that. That way you don’t have to sleep on the couch.”

Dinah shrugs. _Casual, casual._ “Sure, I’m cool with that. There’s plenty of room, it’s a big bed. You want to shower tonight?”

Even as she asks, Helena covers a yawn and blinks blearily. “No, thanks, I can wait until tomorrow.”

“Alright.” Dinah stands, offering Helena a hand to help her up, which Helena accepts after a moment’s hesitation. “I’ll shower now, then, so go ahead and make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you,” Helena says, very seriously.

“Hey, it’s no problem. Happy to help.”

Dinah can’t name the emotions that pass briefly over Helena’s face at that, but after a moment Helena simply nods and goes into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Dinah showers quickly, and before she goes into the bedroom she fusses about in the kitchen for a few minutes, organizing Helena’s pain meds so they’ll be easy to find if she has to take them in the middle of the night and filling a glass of water to leave on the nightstand for Helena. After wiping down the countertop for the third time, Dinah scoffs quietly at her own ridiculousness — delaying like this. _It’s just Helena,_ she tells herself firmly. After all, Dinah can’t count the number of times she’s shared a bed with Harley or Renee after the Birds finish a mission, or even friends in high school before that. _It’s no different,_ she tries to convince herself, except — it is. Dinah knows it is, and she knows _why_ it is.

 _Stop it,_ Dinah tells herself firmly, and she takes the glass of water in hand and pads quietly to the bedroom, pushing the door open. 

Helena’s on her back, head resting on two pillows as the post-op instructions dictate, and she’s already fast asleep. One arm is tucked flush against her side, but the other is tossed across the empty space on the mattress beside her. She looks as peaceful as Dinah’s ever seen her; the ever-present crinkle between her eyebrows is smoothed out, and there’s a stray curl of hair hanging over one eye. 

Dinah finds herself smiling softly at the sight, and after a moment she crosses the room as quietly as she can and sets the glass on the nightstand. On instinct, she brushes the curl out of Helena’s face, then pulls away quickly, worried that the movement will wake Helena.

It doesn’t, though; she merely sighs a bit, but remains asleep even as Dinah gently shifts Helena’s arm so that she can lie down. 

Dinah hadn’t realized how tired she is. It’s been a long day, after all, and as soon as her head hits the pillow, her eyelids grow heavy, and within minutes she too is asleep. 

She doesn’t know what wakes her, hours later; the bedroom is dark apart from the faint streetlight that bleeds through the curtains, and beside her — 

Helena’s tense, every muscle in her body taut and her jaw clenched; her eyelids twitch, and her breathing is quick and shallow. 

_She must be having a nightmare,_ Dinah realizes suddenly, and she’s immediately wide awake. Her hand hovers over Helena’s shoulder, but she hesitates, not wanting to startle Helena into lashing out. Instead, Dinah stands and moves to the foot of the bed, tapping lightly on Helena’s ankle.

“Helena? Wake up, hon.” _Jesus, I just can’t stop with the pet names._ “You’re having a bad dream. Helena, it’s me, you gotta wake up.”

Helena’s eyes snap open, darting around the room in panic, and Dinah moves forward slowly, deliberately. “Hey. Just me. Okay?”

She can see Helena’s eyes refocus, and the tension leaves Helena’s body. She exhales and drops back against the pillow, her hand moving up to her face as she makes a soft noise of pain that cuts straight to Dinah’s heart. 

“What is it?” Dinah sits on the edge of the bed, next to Helena’s hip. “Bleeding again?”

“No.” Helena’s voice is rough from sleep, and she clears her throat before continuing, “I tend to lock my jaw, when… when this happens.”

Dinah makes a soft noise of understanding, then checks the time. “You can have another dose, it’s been five hours. Want me to bring it in?”

The fact that Helena nods in acquiescence without any protest is telling, and Dinah gets up and retrieves the medicine, grabbing a cup of applesauce and a spoon while she’s in the kitchen. 

Helena’s coming out of the bathroom when Dinah returns, and she blinks in confusion. “Applesauce?”

“Gotta take it with food,” Dinah explains, opening the cup and handing it over when Helena sits back down on the bed.

The silence stretches between them, only broken by the scraping of the spoon against the plastic applesauce cup, but it’s not awkward at all. Dinah gets the feeling that Helena’s accustomed to silence in a way she herself will never be, but when it’s just the two of them like this, Dinah doesn’t mind the quiet. 

There’s something nagging at her, though, and she has to ask: “Do you want to talk about it? The dream, I mean?”

Helena stares down into the now-empty cup, absently running the spoon along the sides. “It’s fine. Same as always.” Her gaze flickers up briefly, as if to gauge Dinah’s reaction, and she adds, “More vivid. I think the pain meds — made it worse.”

“You can just take the ibuprofen, if it’s bad —”

“It’s alright,” Helena assures her. “Just — different. I don’t think the ibuprofen will be enough — it hurts worse at night.”

Dinah nods, passing her the medicine and the glass of water, and Helena accepts both gratefully. 

“Let me check your temperature, just in case.” Dinah presses the back of her hand to Helena’s forehead — it’s warm, but not feverishly so, but Dinah lets the touch linger for an extra moment. Helena leans her head to rest against Dinah’s hand, closing her eyes with a sigh. Dinah pulls away, only to thread her fingers through Helena’s hair, combing gently. They stay like that until Dinah sees Helena’s head starting to droop — probably the medicine kicking in.

“You should try and sleep again,” she says softly, and Helena doesn’t protest, just tucks herself under the sheets, her eyes already closing. Dinah follows suit, but this time, she moves a tiny bit closer to the center of the bed.

As she’s drifting off, she feels Helena’s hand come to rest against her wrist, fingers to pulse, so Dinah brushes her fingertips against Helena’s palm in silent reassurance.

That’s how the morning light finds them, hands still twined together. Dinah blinks into awareness, checking on Helena as soon as she’s fully awake. Helena’s still sleeping, so Dinah carefully extricates herself from the sheets and shuts the door behind her when she leaves the room. Part of her wishes she had stayed a bit longer, but it’s too late now.

Dinah goes through the everyday routine of making coffee, lost in thought all the while. It should scare her, the tenderness she feels when she looks at Helena, and the desire for something beyond the friendship and camaraderie of fighting together. But it feels so right, so _natural,_ that Dinah finds herself letting her guard down in a way that’s unfamiliar. She wonders how Helena feels — Helena, who’s still adjusting to a life with friends who have her back in a fight and tease her and order takeout together, who’s somehow both the most reserved and most expressive person Dinah’s ever met. 

She’s almost a different person from the assassin who’d showed up at the Boobytrap and killed Zsasz without a second thought: more open, now, and not quite as aggressively independent. It’s been good for Helena to have a team; that much is clear to Dinah.

The sound of the bedroom door opening brings Dinah back to awareness. “Hey,” she greets Helena, who shuffles out of the bedroom squinting slightly and sporting a serious case of bedhead. “Sleep well?”

“Mm-hm,” Helena replies, running a hand through her hair and managing to make it stick up even more wildly. “Thanks.”

“Good. Coffee or tea?”

“Tea?” Helena says it like a question.

“I only have herbal, so if you need caffeine, you should probably stick to coffee. Let me see.” Dinah rifles through the cabinet. “Lemon, chamomile, and raspberry.”

“Um, chamomile, please. Is it —” Helena clears her throat. “I was gonna shower? If that’s okay.”

“Go for it. Hey, are you hungry? I can make breakfast.”

Helena looks uncertain. “I could eat. Or not. It really doesn’t matter —”

“How about this,” Dinah breaks in before Helena can tie herself into a knot of propriety-induced indecision. “I’m making breakfast, probably french toast. Will you have some too?”

“Sure.” Helena looks relieved. “I’ll just — yeah.”

The bathroom door shuts behind her, and Dinah laughs quietly to herself and rummages through the cabinet for a frying pan. She doesn’t need a recipe; she knows it by heart, thanks to her mother’s (mostly unsuccessful) efforts to teach Dinah how to cook. She knows a few simple dishes, enough to get by, plus french toast, which Dinah figures should be easy for Helena to eat.

The shower shuts off as soon as Dinah moves the first batch to a platter, and by the time Helena emerges, her damp hair curling around her ears, the table is set with silverware and maple syrup. 

“That smells amazing,” Helena says, taking a seat at the table at Dinah’s prompting. “Thank you.”

Dinah sits down too, drizzling her plate with syrup and picking up her fork. “It’s a Dinah Lance specialty. Pretty much the only one, actually, I don’t cook much.”

Helena neatly cuts her portion into little cubes. “What, um, what’s in it?”

Dinah stops mid-chew. “Wait, have you ever even had french toast?”

Helena shakes her head.

“So you let me make you something that you’ve never had?”

Helena just looks at her, completely unbothered. “I trust you.”

Dinah looks at her plate to hide her smile, then looks up again. “It’s pretty simple. Whatever bread you like, dipped in a mix of eggs, milk, sugar, spices — I usually use vanilla and cinnamon, but I added nutmeg this time too. Then you fry it.”

“It’s good,” Helena says, spearing another bite on her fork. “Really good.”

“Glad you like it.” It’s just as good as Dinah remembers, but she slows her pace to match Helena’s, who’s still eating slowly. She notices that Helena takes a dose of ibuprofen and the antibiotic, leaving the Percocet bottle untouched, and wonders if the pain is any better.

“How’re you feeling?” 

Helena swallows. “Sore. It’s worse than I thought it would be.”

“Yeah, for sure.” Dinah hesitates, then adds, “You know, you’re more than welcome to stay the night again.”

Helena’s fork drags against the plate with a noise that makes them both wince. “I think — I’m fine, really. I’m feeling a lot better. Well, not a lot better, but —”

“Seriously, it’s no problem,” Dinah cuts in gently. “I like having you around, H.”

Helena’s brow knits in confusion. “You — oh.”

“Yeah, _oh.”_ Dinah knocks her knee lightly against Helena’s under the table. “I don’t make french toast for just anyone, you know.”

“Oh,” Helena says again. “Well, still, I don’t want to — to be a burden, or anything.”

Dinah’s shaking her head before Helena’s even done talking. “You’re not, Helena, never.” She’s hit with a terrible thought. “Did I do something to make you think that?”

“No! No, I just —” Helena’s gripping her fork so hard her fingertips are white. “I’ll be fine by myself.”

“Well, I know _that._ ” Helena just blinks at her, and Dinah continues, “You’re, like, the most capable person I’ve ever met. Hell, you can kill a man with your bare hands. It’s not that I don’t think you _can_ be on your own right now, it’s that you don’t _have_ to be. And I don’t want you to be. I mean, you’ve got me now. And Renee, and Cass, and Harley, and even her fuckin’ hyena. Alright? You can stay tonight, the next night; hell, stay for a week. Like I said,” Dinah finishes, “I like having you here.”

Helena makes a frustrated sound. “Why? I just — _sit there,_ on the couch, and eat your food, and then I woke you up last night, so clearly I’m not good company.”

She’s dead serious, Dinah realizes, and suddenly she doesn’t know what to say. Helena only holds her gaze for a second longer, then tears her eyes away and stares hard at the table, her brow furrowing. 

“That’s not —” Dinah starts, and then there’s a loud pounding at the door. 

“Yoo-hoo! Here to see the patient!” 

It’s unmistakably Harley, and Dinah rolls her eyes. She truly has the worst timing of anyone Dinah’s ever known. The knocking comes again, even louder, and Dinah growls in frustration. “Coming!” she hollers, then mutters, “Jesus. Listen — we’ll talk about this later, alright?”

“Sure,” Helena says flatly, and Dinah squeezes her knee briefly before getting up to answer the door. 

“Canary!” Harley beams at her, and out of the corner of her eye Dinah sees something shiny flash in her hand before Harley pockets it — she’d probably been about to pick the lock, which wouldn’t be the first time. “You been takin’ care of our girl?”

“Uh-huh. Hey, Cass.” Dinah steps aside to let them in. 

“Hey, Dinah.”

“And there’s our patient!” Harley bounds toward Helena, who’s still sitting at the kitchen table looking resigned to the inevitable chaos of Harley’s arrival. “Aw, your face is all puffy, poor doll! Look, I gotcha lots of goodies.” She unceremoniously drops a grocery tote on Dinah’s table, unloading it right there. “Ice cream, an’ all sorts of fruit, an’ pancake mix — you like pancakes, right, Killer?”

“Yes. Don’t call me that.”

“Hey, Helena. Can I see where they pulled out your teeth? Harley says it’s gonna look gross. Did it bleed a lot?”

“Yeah, a bit.” 

“Gross.” Cass wrinkles her nose. “Ooh! Did they let you keep the teeth?”

Dinah grins at the memory of Helena very seriously making that request as Helena says, “No, they didn’t. Sorry.”

“She wanted to, though,” Dinah adds. “She made me ask.”

“Did you get a video? What kind of weird shit did she say?” Cass asks through a mouthful of french toast.

Helena sends her a pleading look, and Dinah takes pity on her. “Not too much. Goofy shit about ice cream flavors, mostly. I didn’t record it.”

“Aw.” Cass frowns. “That’s no fun.” She looks back at Helena. “Does it hurt a lot?”

Helena shrugs, evidently deciding whether to be tough or honest. “Kind of,” she admits finally. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Plus, you’ve got the world’s best nurse!” Harley grins, lifting her eyebrows suggestively. “I bet Dinah’s been taking _real_ good care of you, huh, doll?”

The double meaning goes right over Helena’s head, because she nods seriously. “She’s been very generous.” Helena studiously avoids Dinah’s gaze as she says it.

“I’ll bet she has.”

“Harley,” Dinah growls, glaring at her. Harley lifts her hands innocently.

“What? I didn’t say nothin’. Hey, kid, didja bring the nail polish?”

“Yep.” Cass points to a large, zebra-patterned makeup bag on the table next to the carton of ice cream, which Dinah grabs and sticks in the freezer before it can melt completely. “Can I paint your nails, Helena?”

“Sure.” 

“Cool.” Cass cuts into a second piece of french toast, and Helena just watches her with the confused fondness that always shows on her face when Cass is around.

All things considered, it’s a nice visit. Dinah finds a Pixar marathon on TV, and Cass paints Helena’s fingernails dark purple and refills Helena’s ice pack when it starts to melt while Harley does her own nails and narrowly avoids spilling pink polish on Dinah’s coffee table. Most of the way through _Brave,_ Dinah starts to notice the tension around Helena’s eyes, the way she grimaces when she readjusts the ice pack, and realizes that she’s probably overdue for another dose of ibuprofen.

“I’m gonna get your medicine, H. Anyone need anything else?”

“Nope,” Cass says, and Helena shakes her head a bit.

Harley, though, pops up and follows Dinah into the kitchen, where she stands with her hands on her hips and an expectant look on her face. 

“So?”

“So what?” Dinah raises her eyebrows.

“You and Huntress out there! _Please_ tell me you’re not still dancing around each other, it’s _exhausting.”_

“Can you keep your damn voice down? Jesus.” Dinah relents. “I’m doing my best, alright? It ain’t easy, you know.”

 _“Please._ ” Harley scoffs. “She’s been pining after you since we saved the kid! I see these things. I am a psychiatrist, after all.”

“Sure, yeah. So helpful, too.”

Harley brightens, either oblivious to the sarcastic edge to Dinah’s words or choosing to ignore it. “Gee, thanks! Just tell her how you feel, Canary,” she continues, nodding wisely. “After all, the key to any healthy relationship is _communication._ Very important.”

“Thanks,” Dinah tells her dryly. 

“No problem!” Harley beams at her and bounds back over to the couch, leaving Dinah with no choice but to follow, ibuprofen in one hand and water in the other. 

By the end of the movie, Dinah can tell that Helena’s starting to get tired; she’s an introvert even when she’s not recovering from dental surgery, after all. Luckily, Harley seems to pick up on it too, because as the credits roll, she hops up from the couch. 

“Alright, kid, we gotta get back to Bruce! He gets lonely when we’re away,” she informs Dinah. “Good to see ya, Killer! Feel better!”

“Thanks, Harley.” She makes a face when Harley ruffles her hair, but doesn’t duck away. “Bye, Cass. Thanks for the manicure.”

When the door shuts behind them, Helena sighs, leaning back against the couch and closing her eyes. 

“You look worn out,” Dinah comments. “You can take a nap, I won’t tell anyone.”

Helena makes an effort to sit up. “I’m fine. I should probably get going, really —”

 _God,_ she’s the most stubborn person Dinah’s ever met. “I meant it, when I said I liked having you around.” Helena opens her mouth as if to interject, but Dinah keeps talking. “I don’t mind that you’re not at a hundred percent right now, alright? You said you’re not good company because of that, but that’s bullshit. You don’t have to — to _do_ stuff to make me like spending time with you. I like it because it’s _you._ ”

“Because we’re friends?”

“Sure,” Dinah says, keeping her voice as light as she can — but she sees a flicker of something, almost like disappointment, cloud Helena’s eyes and vanish just as quickly, and before she knows it, she’s saying, “Although the receptionist yesterday thought we were together.”

Helena frowns. “We _were_ together, though — oh. You mean —” She stops abruptly, her face reddening. “That’s — huh. Weird.” She coughs a bit, looking away.

Dinah shrugs and says as nonchalantly as she can manage, “I dunno. I don’t think it’s that weird.”

And Helena’s looking at her again. “You don’t?”

“No,” Dinah says softly. “I don’t.” 

Her heart’s practically beating out of her chest as she tries to gauge Helena’s reaction; all these months she’d imagined just telling Helena how she feels, Dinah had never thought that it would happen like this — the two of them, side-by-side on Dinah’s couch, with Helena wide-eyed and still holding an ice pack to her jaw.

“Okay,” Helena finally says, nodding fast enough that Dinah holds back a wince — it has to bother her jaw, nodding like that. “Okay, good. Cool.”

And Dinah can’t help it; she tips her head back and laughs. _Cool._ God, she loves this woman, awkwardness and all. “Cool?”

“Um, great?” Helena backtracks, looking nervous, like she's ready to rattle off a dozen more adjectives, so Dinah just leans forward and kisses her — softly, because she doesn’t want it to hurt.

When she pulls away after a moment, Helena looks stunned and happy all at once, and Dinah teasingly asks, “Was that cool?”

“Shut up,” Helena mumbles, but she’s smiling, and she keeps glancing down at Dinah’s lips — and Dinah thinks _fuck it,_ she’s waited long enough and evidently Helena has too, and this time Helena meets her halfway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear what you think :)


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